Chapter Text
Alicent's mother told her she shouldn't get too close to her father's boss' daughter. That she was everything undisciplined and unapologetically wrong about the new generation of Westeros. A completely perfect girl ruined by what her parents made of her.
And sometimes, she could see it.
Rhaenyra was the only child with a rockstar for a father and a supermodel for a mother. In the daytime, she lived in a big house of red brick and clay, a place wide enough that even the likes of the Targaryen help could be hosted in. Every beck and call was theirs to make and people like Alicent's father were hired to aid.
Then at night, the moon shone down bright on the starlight family prancing about town. In the family music venue, Aemma propped Rhaenyra onto her knee and made her shake celebrity hands. 'The Realm's Delight'-- raised in nightclubs and thoroughly saturated in the 90s rock scene. It was deplorable, is what Alicent's mother said. That a child shouldn't be in such places surrounded by such people. And that it was surely souring such a spoiled girl's mind, her face with a gleaming smile and superficial adoration laid at her feet on the front of newspapers and gossipy magazines.
But she wasn't all Alicent's mother made her out to seem.
Whenever Alicent was tucked by her father's side and he needed to speak alone with Viserys, he'd send the girls away. Always their little ones who wanted so badly to stay near. And so they'd wait out in hallways by the door to the private talks, the girls sneaking glances at one another. Sometimes, Alicent wondered if Rhaenyra's parents gave any warnings about her.
"Is it true that your siblings and Mother remain in Oldtown?" Alicent swallowed. It seemed they had told her something.
"Yes. My mother is ill and the city air does nothing to aid her." Her voice came out quieter than she intended. Not at all the same way Rhaenyra's had a ferocity to it.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear about that." The same tenderness settles in Rhaenyra's tone. The doors open again to reveal Otto and Viserys with their watchful eyes, the girls sticking back into their sides. They look at one another while holding the hands of their fathers.
Then when night came and Viserys had to go play shows with Otto making sure nothing unseemly came from his image, Rhaenyra always made the effort to persuade Alicent into something. At first, the Targaryen girl would try to ask her to tag along. Then, after the Faith came out to denounce the family, and Otto advised for the girl to remain at home while Aemma and Viserys went away, Rhaenyra persisted in other ways. She'd ask if she wanted to play dolls with her in her room or take turns practicing the guitar. The younger would talk in passing about how very good she was at playing her own, always telling Alicent the name of it.
Syrax. A golden electric thing that glittered and glowed in her hold. Something much too big for such a girl her size, and yet Rhaenyra made certain to tell Alicent in passing how she pricked at it every night. How the calluses on her fingers were forming and that soon they'd become as rough and wide as her Uncle Daemon's.
Alicent tried her best not to listen. When she did, she'd go back to her mother on the phone and speak all about it. It was a guilting moment, for the way the grown woman on the other line chastized and critiqued the child she knew nothing of all from the tattling of her own daughter.
"They aren't god-fearing people. They can't be. Not when they believe themselves above the Seven's graces." Together over the wire, Alicent and her mother would murmur sermons with clasped hands. Speeches of salvation and for the Targaryen household to suddenly find refuge in the Faith.
Otto came in one rare night to tuck Alicent into bed before he left once and overheard. In the next room over, Alicent listened to her parent's conversation, her father explaining how the calls were inappropriate. That anyone with a good ear could pass their rooms and listen to the critiquing and praying. Alicent hadn't heard her mother and father speak since they'd left home.
She felt it rather nice to fall asleep to the sound of them, even if they were arguing.
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The phone calls lessened. Initially, Alicent waited by the device with a book in her hands, longing to talk to the only person who asked about her day. Otto made not one comment. He'd leave her bedroom door open to their shared floor when he started leaving to work the nightlife again. She wondered if Mother truly was still bothered about him taking the job that was Viserys Targaryen's right-hand man. If she was more mad about him being around such a place that she despised or people she felt had no class or if it was over the fact he'd only taken Alicent.
"My only girl." She'd say wistfully into her ear while combing her auburn hair. Alicent never tried to correct her, she was never to talk about her late sister. Even if the image of her mother's baby that came out blue was encased inside of her small mind.
Instead of thinking about it by herself, Alicent spent the lonely nights without her mother's voice to write. It was a journal hidden amongst the other ones she'd use for schoolwork, kept secret even though there was nobody to try and pry.
With her father's arrival in King's Landing, Viserys became busier than ever before. All the great impressions made in interviews and even greater shows meant more days Otto was away from home. Alicent never complained though. She was her father's chosen child for a reason; always so easy and obedient.
"Sweet girl." He praised her as she kept quiet on the floor doing homework while he screened through his papers. Alicent would nod with a smile.
Now she sat in his spot behind the mahogany desk, writing in her journal with her assignments for the homeschooling teacher already set and done. If Alicent didn't make herself busy, it'd give her too much time to think about how much she missed home and the semblance of it.
The phone ringing in the sitting room brought her completely into the light though, the girl dropping from her father's seat that was still too tall for her to fully enjoy. She went to the trilling device with her fingers fumbling with the Seven Pointed Star her mother gifted to her, grinning widely.
But when the phone was pressed to Alicent's ear, the silence in the first few seconds followed by the incoherent ramblings and accusations made her wish she'd never picked up the phone at all.
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Alicent never called him, her father saying it was only ever in an emergency. But she had, feeling the silence on her part could only hold out for so long. She wishes she could remember how it was her father's voice sounded like trying to calm her crying, the entire moment a blur through all her big tears and emotions.
He came back from his work trip without Viserys and tended to Alicent, reminding her of how she couldn't hate her mother. How even if she didn't deserve such words, the girl had to forgive and forget.
"She's sick. Ever since what happened. You understand that don't you?" Alicent nodded, tucked into bed still and her head pained from sobbing. "She loves you. You must know." Alicent didn't nod. She just thought about how awful it felt to cry.
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She doesn't think she's ever been in this part of the Red Keep, only on the other side of the wall looking in.
'Viserys said you should welcome yourself to the studio piano. That even though you've lived here for a few years, you've never made yourself at home.'
Alicent wanted to say it was because this wasn't home. As she sat on the bench across from the grand instrument, her picked fingers unwilling to graze over its beauty, Alicent knew this wasn't something people in her family did. It's not like she ever knew. Even when her mother was whole and healthy. Inviting and warm. Not at all the distant image of the woman Alicent knew, guilting her for not calling her through the phone.
It was an imposter inside of her mother's skin, eating the love from her heart and the sanity from her mind.
Her fingers pressed into the keys, the music burning the thought from Alicent's brain. She played the scales and tunes she'd learned at Oldtown's sept. It was so much echoey there, not at all like the studio encasing and immortalizing the sound. The background noise to the hymns her mother led, the robes making her so much more believably gracious. Alicent played on.
Alicent straightened her back and furrowed her brows, almost clawing into the body of keys as she pressed harder in some parts. Tried to make something louder than the thoughts inside of her. It only ended up as a carousel, the girl of twelve only having memorized a few sheets of music. The same three songs, again and again, the already fragile skin on her fingertips rubbing and pressing into the hard keys creating a familiarly satisfying hurt.
When her worries subsided, Alicent sat for a moment before going to close the piano. The same moment the keys were tucked away, the door to the studio opened, making the girl of auburn hair jump. She turned to see Rhaenyra, mouth hanging open and eyes lit up with a crazed gleam.
"Music. You like music too." Is all that fell past her lips, and Alicent felt her cheeks bloom. She'd had an audience, and seemingly, her first fan and friend.
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Life got a little lighter. Even with Daemon's new antics in the Vale and her father having to be away even more because of it, Alicent found herself great company.
Rhaenyra was a bright girl. She enjoyed talking and sharing anything she could. Music, stories, ideas, and especially her time.
The Hightower girl of thirteen and the twelve-year-old Targaryen woke up to spend the day together as well as thoroughly into the evening. Their private instructors abided and taught them side by side, leaving the pair to their schoolwork. Only, Rhaenyra's was different. It consisted of the regular maths and readings from when Alicent was in her year, but there was more. Notes and scales that she had to learn as well as recall the keys for. A minute-length original song recording that was necessary to pass one of her classes. Alicent knew they were both in secondary school, but she'd never received assignments as such.
"It's because I'm enrolled in my family's academy. King's Landing." Rhaenyra answered without having been asked, already aware of the quizzical look on Alicent's face. She wondered if she was easy to read or if Rhaenyra was good at just understanding people.
"Is that why you have me give you a lot of recommendations? Do you study the songs I give you afterward or something?" Alicent asks, finishing an exercise on her workout sheet to turn it over.
"Yes. I wonder if you've done any listening to the records I've lent you, though." Rhaenyra hums, Alicent silent as she keeps her face lowered to her page. Perhaps the younger was just good at reading her, Alicent truly having only gotten through a minute or so at the beginning of albums to turn the record player off. Rock music always had her feeling guilted, even after moving away from home and hearing less of her mother's lectures.
Without an answer, Rhaenyra looks around the room and gets up without notice, walking to the radio on the mantle to turn it on. Static sounds through and Alicent holds in her laughter, shushing the younger and trying to beckon her back to doing schoolwork. Rhaenyra is determined though, going through the stations with a mischievous grin hanging on her lips.
A certain song catches her attention, pale digits twirling the knob louder and before Alicent can tell her to stop, the girl begins to twirl in the center of the room. Her socked feet thud against the carpet and Alicent can't help but double over in amusement, tears pricking her eyes as she watches the flailing and ungraceful movements Rhaenyra has conjured on her body.
She's grabbed up in her humor, Alicent regaining her breath and losing it all at once as the two dance around, the tune an oldie from probably when their own parents were young.
"This kind of stuff was the worst of the worse back in the day. Rock and roll even though compared to now, it's some duddy pop song." Rhaenyra lectures over the lyrics, pulling and twisting Alicent as they hold hands and prance around.
"Then that means one day today's rock will be someone's pop probably ten-twenty years from now." Alicent inquires, the two completely forgetting about the quiet time they were supposed to be having. A sharp knock on the archway makes them halt, Harrold Westerling, Rhaenyra's bodyguard, chauffeur, and what Viserys jokingly calls, 'nanny'.
"You two are supposed to be doing your schoolwork. None of this horseplaying here," He scolds, already walking to the fireplace to switch off the radio. Just as his large hands move up, a distinct voice on the broadcast begins, making Rhaenyra dart over to him and clamp around his palms. Alicent stays put, not so hasty or brave, unlike the daring girl.
"Wait-"
"You're fixing for a proper lesson now, girly-"
"Wait- wait, listen." Rhaenyra pleads, and for some reason, the world stops whenever she commands.
It's an announcement for a band playing somewhere in Flea Bottom, the location of the address not even given, and yet Rhaenyra lights up at the cryptic riddle. She looks to Harrold and he sighs, shaking his head and flickering her off him as though she is water and his hands are wet.
"I've got to go see them." She begins, the man turning the radio off and already moving to get out the door. "Come on! I've been good, I'll do my homework and then I'll ask my mum-"
"Your mum is much too busy to be bothered, Rhaenyra." He says, Alicent immediately catching how easily the girl wilts.
Aemma was pregnant again, and even though her bright friend pretended to act alright, she hated everything that had been brought up with the idea of a new baby. The maternity shoots, the interviews her mother was tagging along in with her father, and most importantly-- the attention that was rerouting away from her.
"Alright then." Her voice is quiet, dismissive, and small, and everything Rhaenyra is not. She goes to sit at the table to work again, Alicent joining her soon after, peeking over her shoulder at the man with a somber look on his face. Quietly, they go back to work, writing and erasing for a moment longer before a throat is cleared.
"Finish up early then. I'll try and find out where this... concert situation is taking place." Harrold gives in, his footsteps disappearing down the hall and Rhaenyra silently raising her fists in the air for this small victory of hers.
The pair finish their homework and just as Alicent is readying to leave down the hall to her rooms, Rhaenyra stops her. Without a chance to protest, Alicent is tugged into the girl's room and their night begins.
Even though it's cold out, Rhaenyra insists they wear coordinating dresses she's grabbed up from deep inside her closet. Alicent only allows it to happen because she secretly adores the fit of it, the skirts low enough that they touch their knees but the undergarment allowing for volume along the hemline.
They throw some old bomber jackets on top. Pieces Rhaenyra had inherited from one of her many infamous relatives, the writers and the musicians alike dressed in their leathers and deep reds. The final component is shoes with giant soles and platforms so the pair at least can stand high in the crowd.
Alicent feels the buckles tighten and suddenly realizes that she is but a girl and the world of the capitol's nightlife is one she's never touched.
Rhaenyra who can seemingly always read her grabs ahold of her hand and sits her in front of the vanity in her room. Bright bulbs and white wood illuminate the hidden panic on Alicent's features. She roves her fingers over her thumbs and broken cuticles. Rhaenyra never says anything about it, only pins away auburn hair and begins brushing makeup onto her face. Small hues and slight mascara that try its best to make them seem just a little bit older. Rhaenyra's fair hair is coated with clear products, her lashes curled and framing daintily around her eyes.
Alicent turns to the mirror to finally see herself, seeing something looking back at her that makes her feel beautiful.
The girls run hand and hand down the staircase into the foyer where Harrold waits, the man with stern brows and softness in his gaze opening the front door for them. They sit in the backseat and listen to the radio, Rhaenyra spewing all about the band she likes and what exactly it is about them she enjoys. Alicent listens while looking out the window, people dressed in tight clothes and lines forming all down entire blocks catching her attention.
Harrold Westerling parks the car in an upscale lot where they have to pay to keep the vehicle safe and secure, the girls walking ahead of him as he stays close behind. He directs them with a careful hand on each of their shoulders, gentle yet direct all in the same movement.
They approach a slightly busy stairwell, the man getting out his phone and flipping it open. He makes a quick call before someone comes out to lead them the rest of the way, Rhaenyra glowing up at her bodyguard who has a sort of smugness on his face.
"There was a time when your great-grandfather Jaehaerys was the biggest name in the industry, alongside the type of things that go in in these parts," He begins, nodding to a man as a door down some stairs to some sort of basement. "So the Faith rose and the politicking that happened ended up causing a lot of clubs to shut down. They wanted to say goodbye to all the booze and music they thought caused all the wrongs of this world."
They walk down a hallway, a thumping of bass and music coming from the other side of the cement. Alicent can't help but let her hands trail along as they go deeper and deeper inside.
"But crime still occurred. People became unemployed. Innovation began, in the form of these little hideouts," Their feet clang on metal steps as they go up now, Alicent feeling as if she is being led into a circle of hell with how different the temperature is compared to outside. "These places where people can be who they are and not get punished for it."
A thick door is pushed open now, the entirety of the volume and heat wafting onto Alicent's face. They are overlooking an entire crowd on top of a banister, the people jumping and singing along to the words of the songs she has no idea about. Rhaenyra goes to the edge of the railing and joins in, making room for Alicent and looking up at Harrold with immense gratitude in her eyes.
And Alicent turns to him with complete shock, his bearded face roaring with laughter at how the sheltered girl from Oldtown is now completely submerged in the rock scene. Rhaenyra grabs her hand and says something in her ear, but the noise is too loud. Alicent can feel the bass travel through her spine and flutter her stomach, the soles of her boots so thick, and yet the rhythm is just there. Tickling her. Enticing her.
A loud twang from a guitar rings out, her brown eyes watching the way fingers shred along the neck of the instrument underneath the red glow of the stage lights. The drums start up again soon after, every hit coming through the speakers rattling the floor beneath them.
Alicent grabs ahold of the railing, joy spreading all across her lips in the form of a smile. And when the band plays and the people rise again to holler and sing, Alicent yells alongside them, a rush of adrenaline she never felt before coursing through her veins. That night, in a hidden prohibition bar on the worst sides of the city, where the music rang out deep into the night, the girl of thirteen felt her life shift in the most fundamental of ways.